


like new beginnings

by edgeofthewall



Series: bellarke tumblr prompts [8]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 09:22:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3604866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgeofthewall/pseuds/edgeofthewall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>reponse to the prompt: Bellamy goes out to find Clarke and when he does she's fighting grounders so he jumps in to the fight with her, but he hurts his leg. Naturally the only solution is to rip his shirt to pieces to use as bandaid leaving him shirtless for the entirety of their journey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like new beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> notes at the beginning this time. i definitely took this in a different direction from what the anon who left this prompt was hoping for, but i'm happy with this one. thank you all for the support as always. if you have any questions, you can find me at [octaviabae](http://octaviabae.tumblr.com) on tumblr!

Bellamy didn’t even entertain the idea of following Clarke, too respectful of her wishes and what she needed to push past this.

(Okay, he thought about it a lot but he didn’t act on it, so just shut up, alright?)

So it was really rude of her to get mad at him when he hadn’t been following her, thank you very much, and yet here she was, glaring at him as if he’d been the grounders attacking her just moments before.

“Why were you out here, Bellamy?” Clarke demanded, holding out her hand expectantly. “Also, give me your shirt.”

“Sorry, I must have missed the day you signed the lease on this particular bit of forest. Maybe next time put up a fence or something if you don’t want me to hunt  _around my own camp_ ,” Bellamy retorted in an exhausted sort of voice, barely sparing a glance to the two dead grounders nearby, instead glaring at his leg in the hopes that it would get the hint and stop bleeding or something. “Nice to see you too, by the way,” he grumbled under his breath, taking off his shirt and handing it to her.

Clarke ignored him, ripping his shirt into shreds of varying lengths so she could carefully assemble a bandage to wrap around his leg. He’d been out hunting when he stumbled upon Clarke fighting a pair of grounders, somehow seeming to have the upper hand despite her lack of weapons. Bellamy had immediately hopped into the fray and, of course, gotten hurt. 

(”Grounders are shit at spreading a message,” Bellamy had grumbled as Clarke finished off the fight, proving he’d have been better off to just let her handle it. “Why doesn’t anyone seem to know we’re at peace now?”)

“There,” Clarke said when she was finished bandaging him up, finally looking up at him for the first time since he’d found her. “Wait. You’re shirtless.”

Bellamy blinked at her, then his leg with his shirt wrapped around it, then back up at her. “Yes. Because you took my shirt.”

Clarke still looked dumbfounded. “And you didn’t have on an undershirt?”

Exasperated, Bellamy rolled his eyes, rubbing at his face as a frustrated sort of laugh fell past his lips. “Sorry. Next time I go hunting, I’ll wear three shirts at minimum on the off chance I run into you again.”

Pursing her lips, Clarke stood, holding out her hand to him. He ignored it, which he immediately regretted at the way he stumbled as he stood. Turning his back on her, he started hobbling back toward camp. “Stop that.”

When she answered, he could hear the smile in her voice. “Stop what?”

“Laughing at me.”

He could feel her eyes on his bare back, and he did his best to ignore it, but something about being shirtless in front of Clarke now was much different from the first few days they’d spent on the ground.

That, and he could totally feel her staring at his back, the pervert.

“This is awfully far out for you to be hunting,” Clarke observed, falling into step beside him easily and flinging his arm over her shoulder to support some of his weight. He didn’t bother to protest, knowing she wouldn’t listen anyway. 

Bellamy shrugged awkwardly, the movement strange with the way he leaned on her as he limped. “I get restless. I’m lacking a certain blonde pain in my ass to take up all my free time with her nagging as of late.”

He shot her a grin along with his joke, but the smile slid off his face like sweat when he saw that she was frowning. “Shit, Clarke, I’m only kidding. I’m sorry.”

Clarke shrugged, the movement sending him jostling a little, and he temporarily lost his balance, which seemed to perk her up a little, the jerk. “It’s okay. I think the opportunity for some sort of emotional reunion was ruined when you found me in—” she cut off, adapting a haughty voice “—the heat of battle.”

Bellamy snorted, absently squeezing her shoulders as they walked. “You sound like Octavia.”

The mention of Octavia made her go quiet again, but this time Bellamy only smiled. “She forgives you, you know. They all do. They see now that it took a lot of love and strength for you to save them.”

Clarke’s answering smile was genuine, but he saw the worry in her eyes when the camp came into view down the hill. He stopped, turning her to face him with his grip on her shoulders gently. She didn’t seem to want to meet his eyes, but the alternative was staring at his bare chest, and he couldn’t help but be amused when she immediately wrenched her gaze up to meet his.

“You don’t have to come inside if you don’t want. You can just roll me down the hill or something, I’ll make it to the gate eventually.” Bellamy’s joke didn’t match his gentle tone, his eyes telling her that it was perfectly okay if she wasn’t ready.

Clarke laughed gently, squaring her shoulders beneath his hands before slipping her arm back under his to help him the rest of the way.

“I think I can manage to say hi.”

The reaction to Clarke’s return was exactly as he’d expected it to be, and he didn’t even care that he got shoved to the side as people rushed to hug her, though he joked about it anyway. “That’s fine everyone, I’ll just stand here and bleed out.”

Rolling her eyes, Clarke broke free from Monty’s hug (though he was momentarily impressed at how tightly the boy managed to hold onto her) to help Bellamy the rest of the way to the medbay. “How have you managed to survive without me, Bellamy?”

He didn’t answer, not sure how to admit that his quality of life had greatly decreased in her absence. Instead, he just smirked that smirk he knew she would never admit she loved and let her take care of him.

* * *

 

The wound to his leg ended up being far worse than he’d realized, and he had a feeling Clarke had downplayed it so as not to worry him. He made a mental note to tell her to quit being such a mom next time she came in to see him.

Which turned out to be a few minutes later.

She was carrying two trays of food, and almost dropped one when she saw he was shirtless again. 

“Did you lose all your shirts while I was gone?” she joked, but he noticed the way her voice had shifted a little higher. He fought back a smirk, not in the mood for her to slap him. 

“Relax. The other Dr. Griffin was taking my blood pressure. Could’a lost my leg, you know,” Bellamy said as he tugged his shirt on, his voice full of false bravado.

“Don’t say that in earshot of Raven.” Clarke handed him a tray of food, before carrying her own to sit next to him, glancing down at his bandaged leg. “How is it, by the way?”

Bellamy shrugged, chomping down on the piece of meat she’d brought him. “Hurts. But I’ll live.”

Clarke nodded, and they continued to eat in silence. Bellamy basked in that, finding that her absence for the past few months didn’t make him want to fill the silence. There was something about having her just sit beside him that made him feel better, like he’d been walking around without half his body and now he was complete again.

It was cheesy as hell, but he smiled at her anyway.

When they finished eating, she stood, taking both their trays. “Get some rest, I’ll come back in a little bit.”

Bellamy nodded, calling out to her just as she reached the door. “Hey, Clarke? I’m glad you’re back.”

Clarke smiled at him sadly. “I’m not back, Bellamy. As soon as you’re better, I’m gone.”

She left then, and Bellamy knew there was no way he’d get any rest.

* * *

 

She was still there a week later when she came back to the medbay, finding him out of bed, and once again without a shirt.

“Seriously, Bellamy?”

Bellamy glanced down at his shirtless torso as if surprised by it, before shrugging at her. “I was starting to smell bad. Figured a rinse was overdue. And before you ask—” he quickly stopped her when she opened her mouth, “yes, I’m allowed to be up. Got your mom’s approval this morning. You ever gonna talk to her?”

Clarke scowled, though she had to have known the question was coming. “I don’t want her to get her hopes up that I’m staying.”

Bellamy tapped his leg pointedly. It wasn’t completely better, but he was healing quickly, and he knew Clarke was well aware of that. “It’s been a week and you’re still here, ya know. The least you can do is give her a hug, especially since I’m on the fast track to healing completely.”

Grumbling under her breath, Clarke turned and left, leaving him there shirtless. He followed her path to peek out, watching her blonde hair weave through the camp until she stopped at her mother, who she immediately pulled into a hug.

That was the moment Bellamy knew she would be staying.

* * *

 

After two and a half more long weeks, Bellamy was finally deemed back in shape, and he joyfully moved back to his living quarters. He never thought he would miss a bed that was made out of nothing but salvaged materials, but it certainly beat the stiff metal they liked to call beds in the medbay.

He woke up early one morning to walk around the camp while it was quiet, emerging from his tent in a pair of pants, his boots, and a gun holster, skipping the shirt altogether. It was too early for anyone to be up anyway.

But Clarke Griffin wasn’t anyone, and honestly, he should’ve known better.

Clarke looked up from her spot perched on a log, letting out a soft sort of groan that he had a feeling was supposed to sound annoyed but instead came out a little sexually frustrated.

“Would you like to borrow one of my shirts, Bellamy? I’m starting to get concerned.”

Bellamy scoffed as he moved to sit on the log beside her, trying not to let the fact that she immediately tensed up from the proximity of his bare skin go to his head  _too_  much. “If you give me the one you have now, we’ll be even.”

A strangled sort of sound fell past Clarke’s lips, and she punched him on the arm hard, but her reaction was worth it, especially when she immediately attempted to recover. “If you were wearing my shirt, I’d be the only one shirtless, idiot.”

Bellamy only grinned, letting silence fall between them again. She turned back to look out at the forest like she had been before, and Bellamy couldn’t help but stare at her. He took in her profile, and the way the gentle early morning breeze tossed loose tendrils of hair around her face, wondering if this would be the last time he saw her for months again.

“Stop staring at me,” Clarke said with absolutely no conviction behind the words, and he smiled softly. 

“No, I’m good. Thanks for the suggestion though.”

Clarke tore her eyes from the forest to look at him, something unreadable in her expression, and he felt a little frustrated that they’d been separated long enough that he couldn’t immediately tell what she was thinking.

“I’m back, aren’t I?”

She wasn’t asking, but telling. It was obvious by now that she didn’t plan on leaving again like she’d said. Not when he’d had a clean bill of health for long enough that she would’ve left had she actually wanted to. But still, he gave her once last chance to leave if that was what she wanted.

“Only if you want to be back, Clarke.”

Clarke looked away from him again, and he wondered if she was actually looking at the forest or if she was remembering everything that had happened that made her decide she needed to leave in the first place. He held his breath in anticipation, hoping she would choose to stay, and knowing that if she didn’t he wouldn’t have it in him to convince her otherwise.

Finally, she sighed in a weary sort of way, lifting her eyes back to his.

“I’ll stay. But only because you’ve been shirtless so much lately.”

He laughed just before he kissed her, and she tasted like the way he’d felt when he’d breathed real air for the first time.

Like new beginnings.


End file.
